High-Stakes Testing hijacked PURPOSE!

 

If you were to rank and sort my old high school according to today’s standards and test scores. James J. Ferris would rank at the bottom. 

A Ghetto school whose teachers could care less about test scores and rankings. Our teachers were on a bigger mission than test scores, their standard was far bigger than any Common Core State Standard. Their goal was to make us literate adults, readers who loved and valued books. Valued books more than movies, valued reading to understand books prepared us for the best of times, and armored us for the worst of time. They Left so addicted to books that there has never been a night without reading in my life.  

I remember Mrs. Sheeran saying we are going to read an amazing book. Imagine two men in love with the same woman, one about to be executed in his cell. The one she loved most was about to die. Girls, can you feel her pain? Now imagine the other who loved her so much he would give up his own life just to make her happy. She said boys all of you raise your hand if you would make the same decision? Only my hand was up. The others were you are crazy Jesse, she said not crazy, but a true Romantic. I am the books I read, and yes I am a romantic. Then she read Dickens's opening of “A Tale of Two Cities”

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."

Then we got lost in that opening quote for the whole class. Increasing the pacing of her lesson had no place. She regularly stopped time for us, again and again. 

Then she gifted us with reading chapter one for homework. I read the whole book that night. Then each night I read each chapter anew as any True Romantic would. We love learning about the French Revolution, London, and Paris. She had us from day one and held us through novel after novel. This is how teachers did it before these high-stakes tests; hijacked the purpose for becoming literate. I hope this is the way a few still do.

Blessed by incredible teachers,                                                                                                            Dr. Jesse P. Turner
CCSU Literacy Center Director 

If you want to hear the song I listened to on my morning walk today it is Lou Lou's " To Sire With Lov" > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EV1qmmMwc9M  < 

Momma, I can can see clearly now

 I would give it all up to go back to that dark day to say grace with Momma. 

Holidays have a way of lifting and breaking people, the lifting is easy, the breaking, well that takes more time. I am as blessed as any man, sitting around the fire here with our daughter, peeling potatoes with Carolyn, and singing Happy Chapin’s Greatest Hits on Vinyl. Loving every tune… Mr. Tanner, Cats in the Cradle, Taxi, 30,000 Pounds of Bananas, and All My Life is a Circle played. War is everywhere, but here at 110, we are safe, fed, warm, and blessed as can be. 

But then reflections come around, to that not quite 12 years old, Father abandoned, Thanksgiving before eviction. In every friend’s home, their Turkeys roast. Momma put our Thanksgiving feast of spaghetti and sauce on the table, reached across the table, and said join me in saying Grace. Now, I am not the soul I am today. I was just a boy consumed by anger and confusion of his life turned upside down. I yelled at her, saying it sucks, we have NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING, to be thankful for, and ran out of the kitchen. Put on my sneakers and ran out of the house. Leaving her alone. Alone, when she needed me most. Alone, like a million mothers. 

Kicking garbage cans, blaming my mother for everything. Knowing quite well, he left the month before when I jumped up and took the slap meant for her. Screaming I won’t let you hit her…he would be gone the next day, not even a note. As cruel as it sounds, he left for me, understanding his addictions, hate, and abuse would end up being on me. She knew; she accepted, she understood goodness in his leaving.

It would take 2 years of being homeless, and 15 more years for this boy to understand. He would come home to die, and she would take her grown son to visit him. Why, are we doing do, I hate him. He is your father, and if you love me, then you must forgive him, and love him. She said to go into the chapel for a bit. Looking up at the cross, I say he is not deserving. But, who is deserving? I pray forgive me, forgive him, forgive us all, Lord. Manhood is never easy, never simple, but it does come around.

I man up, go up the elevator to see this man, hold his hand, and say the word through crying eyes, I love you, Dad. That moment turns the tide, and I start a new manhood journey to being a better me. Momma knew it wasn't about her or him, it was always about their boy.  Not every I love you is real, comes easy, but every real I love you makes a boy a man. 

Thanksgiving regrets, after that Thanksgiving tantrum, I returned home to find Momma sitting in the dark, drinking her tea, smoking her cigarette, and crying. I wanted so much to run to her and say I am sorry Momma. I was just an angry confused little boy and rather than run to her I ran to my bed. I was not the man I am today; this man's stuff comes too late. I would give all I own to go back, say grace, and hug her until my arms were too weary to hold on. Things would change, the sun would come out again, and an angry and confused little boy would eventually become the loving son his mother needed. 

I love holidays, but memories do come around to students lost, Francisco and Alex, dear, sisters Jessica and Maryellen, Niece Cathy, and dearest brothers from other mothers, Jose, Anthony, and Michael. Greif comes around, but I am not the boy, I am a man grown to understand that the sun shines on many beautiful holidays. I am the man blessed with still more good ones to come. I am thankful for this day. I send my Thanksgiving wishes for peace in Ukraine, the Middle East, and every corner of the world. May peace and love rain down on all people, everywhere, all faiths, non-believers, races, and LGBTQ sisters and brothers.  Someday I too will be no more, but love is infinite, it has a way of hanging on long after. I know the love we share matters more than hate, and it is love that carries through. Momma, knew that and made sure I did as well. She left me a lifetime of her mother's love to hold me strong. Thank you, Momma. 

Today is good, today is blessed here at 110. I have only one regret, one I would give all I own to change. I would give it all up, to go back to that dark kitchen to say Grace with Momma and enjoy that most blessed Thanksgiving feast of spaghetti and sauce. Embracing her, loving her, saying Momma I finally understand. 

Blessed by the highs and the lows of a blessed loving mother who knew the sun would come out tomorrow. Cling to the good ones, God sent them to hold us strong. 

Wishing all a million more blessings,                                                                                                     Jesse the boy who understands 

If you want to know the tune on my mind this holiday. It is Jimmy Cliff " I can see clearly now" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrHxhQPOO2c 

If I could time back time

Momma's boy until we are no more

 

Where did all the silly fun go

Establish a joyful school and classroom culture that assures equal opportunity to learn for all. Learners include teachers and leaders as well as students. ~ Regie Routeman 

We are going to have some fun with the children in our CCSU Literacy Center on Monday. Put a sign saying no kid is allowed to read this DANGEROUS Book! Make a big thing about saying their tiny brains can’t handle ideas. Everyone knows ideas are too dangerous for kids! Sometimes kids and Teachers need a little silly.

So much of school these days is Chrome Book Busy Work Sheet work. When children arrive at our Literacy Center, I always ask; what you did in school today... 

The most common response is boring stuff. Did you read anything exciting? The most common response is no, we didn't do any reading. If I dig a little deeper, I discover most of what is called reading is isolated skills, if they read something it most often is some decodable text.  The term joyful appears less and less in this high-stakes-testing upload your data-driven every-hour era.

Children run to our CCSU Literacy Center and hang out long after their sessions are over, we often have to tell them it is time to go home. I love to set up silly invitations to read, pretend that I don't want them to read....make it fun, and give out plastic gold medals for reading. Our children love to come here, our secret is Tier 3 tutoring by fully certified teachers and a little silly fun. 

I will bet my bottom last dollar that every single child read April Hillband's "This Book is Dangerous" and talks it up tonight.

Sometimes I wonder where joyful learning went in our schools,
Dr. Jesse P. Turner 
CCSU Literacy Center Director 

Don't tell the Policymakers, Data Junkies, or Rigor Ed Reformers. But tonight it is don't worry be happy We'll be jamming to a little Bobby McFerrin > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU <